Not since the 1954 arrival of honeymooning Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio had there been such delirium at Tokyo International Airport. A record crowd of more than 4,000 was on hand to greet the returning hero as he flew home from Manila. Press helicopters hovered outside his Tokyo hospital window, while newspapers devoted full-page spreads to him. Prime Minister Kakuei Tanaka personally took writing brush in hand to inscribe ten poetic characters. The message: "The air of a heavenly hero will prove awesome through a thousand autumns."
The subject of these worshipful encomiums was Imperial Army Lieut. Hiroo Onoda, 52, Japan's last-known World War II straggler, who had finally been persuaded to surrender on the remote Philippine island of Lubang. For many Japanese, Onoda's ordeal seemed to strike a more responsive emotional chord than that of Sgt. Shoichi Yokoi, another wartime Rip van Winkle, who returned from his hideout on Guam two years ago (TIME, Feb. 7, 1972). Yokoi had remained in hiding because he was afraid, and did not know that the war was over.
But Onoda, a modern incarnation of a loyal samurai, knew precisely what the situation was. During his long years in hiding, he had listened on a stolen transistor radio to the Japanese language service of the BBC. He had even refused to respond to a $400,000 effort by Japan's Welfare Ministry to persuade him, via loudspeakers, search parties and air-dropped leaflets, that the war was truly over and that he should surrender and come home. The ministry had known for some time that he was alive because the Philippine police had reported occasional gun battles involving its constables on Lubang and a mysterious recluse dressed in a Japanese army uniform.
No Matter What. A graduate of an Imperial Army intelligence school, Onoda was posted to Lubang in late 1944. His orders were specific: "To continue carrying out your mission even after the Japanese Army surrenders, no matter what happens." After the island was liberated by American and Philippine forces, Onoda went underground with three enlisted men; one of his compatriots surrendered in 1950, and the other two were killed in shoot-outs with Philippine police, the first in 1954 and the second in 1972. Meanwhile, Onoda set up a series of hideouts across the 74-sq.-mi. island, stealing food to keep alive and keeping intact several caches of live ammunition. Over the years, Onoda and his men are suspected of having killed at least 30 Filipinos who came upon their path, and wounding 100 others.